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I followed Barbara’s suggestion that I pick up a good book while recuperating and… well, ran into some problems.

I had a few on the go already, but they were of the “thought and spiritual development required” kind – Man’s Search for Meaning, How To Practice – and that’s just too involved for the times when all your psychic energy is being re-routed to fixing your body. I’d just finished Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which would otherwise have been perfect. So I scrolled through the books on my iPod in the hopes of finding something suitably entertaining.

A while back, I bought The Fiery Cross and have been saving it for a special occasion, for when I needed to curl up with a really good yarn – the kind that feels like an old friend. I’ve read all the other books in the Outlander series and loved them madly. I’m a sucker for historical novels and if the author can throw in some blistering romance and Scotland, I’m there.

I don’t know if I’ve changed or the books have. I’m two hours into the book and – it pains me to say this – bored senseless. I keep hoping it’ll hook me so I can dive into the 18th century and visit with Claire and Jamie, but it’s not happening. The reader is great. Well, at least I feel she ought to be great. Clipped British accent, does a mean Scottish and Irish accent and convincingly reads the Gaelic text (although, I know no Gaelic and she could be mangling it for all I know). Yet somehow, I don’t like her. I feel as if Gabaldon phoned this one in and as for the narrator… she’s technically very good, but there’s no soul in her reading.

Time for the ultimate “in case of emergency break glass”. Monday Mourning by Kathy Reichs. Always reliable – I was enjoying myself thoroughly within 10 minutes.